


all must pass, in time

by cassanabaratheon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: AHS: Coven AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanabaratheon/pseuds/cassanabaratheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The opening of the door on the right makes her eyes snap open and she turns her head to see a red-haired woman enter. She frowns, what was her name? Oh yes, Lavinia. Her eyes narrow slightly. The air has changed, it thrums lightly and her own body seems to react, recognising something… Could she be the one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	all must pass, in time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laurentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurentia/gifts).



> For Lauren who wanted Rosamund & Lavinia in a Coven sort of set up.

The glass crystal clicks on the mahogany table as she sets it down and picks up the whiskey decanter. There’s not much left in it (she thinks of a snide comment Vera would make of that) and she pours herself out a generous amount. With the shit morning she’s having, it’s a wonder she hasn’t drunk the lot by now. She settles into the large armchair, the usual one she takes up for it has the best view of the large drawing room. From here, she can see everything within the four walls but now, glancing up and seeing all the faces of the past Supreme witches makes her nose scrunch up in distaste. She sees the spot where her own portrait will hang and she knows it will command attention.

She takes a large gulp of the whiskey. It burns in a familiar way and she savours that and briefly closes her eyes.

The heel of her black stiletto scrapes against the wooded floorboards in a way that makes a smirk curl up on her lips. Now,  _that_  was something Violet wouldn’t have stood for for if she were here. Even with her eyes closed, Rosamund can feel  _her_  eyes boring into her. She scrapes it again for good measure and allows her head to loll to the side and sighs. Her bones feel heavier, muscles ache in ways she could have never of imagined ten, even five, years ago. Maybe it was also something to do with being back here at Downton Academy.

Sarah has a good grasp and control of the place (she would have never of left if she didn’t have complete trust in the Headmistress) but now she thinks that perhaps she should have returned sooner. As the Supreme she should have also guided the women under this roof but she was busy,  _oh so busy_ , leading a life that had been denied to her when she was fresh-faced and barely bloomed. Now she feared she was beginning to furl, to wear and wither at the edges and that is a shard of ice cold fear in her.

She isn’t ready to pass on. She still has so much to give, to teach.

_Who is she?_  She wonders for the millionth time.  _Who will take my place?_

The opening of the door on the right makes her eyes snap open and she turns her head to see a red-haired woman enter. She frowns, what was her name? Oh yes, _Lavinia_. Her eyes narrow slightly. The air has changed, it thrums lightly and her own body seems to react, recognising something… Could she be the one?

She appears startled to see Rosamund and blushes prettily, quick to apologise for intruding. Rosamund raises her hand up to stop her and she falls silent.

“It’s Lavinia, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replies and comes further into the room after Rosamund waves her over. Yes, she’s pretty. Like a little elfish fairy, Rosamund muses as her eyes sweep over her.

“We’ve not spoken much have we?” Rosamund looks down as she swirls the whiskey in the glass before draining it in one. “Then again, I’ve been away. I should have come back before but…” she adds more to herself then glances back to Lavinia.  “You’re the one with telekinesis, yes?”

Lavinia nods and shifts on her heels. She’s nothing like her, Rosamund can see that clearly. Her clothes are pretty but on the sweet, slightly modest side - unlike Rosamund’s all black, dressed to fuck and kill apparel. Though, perhaps, she isn’t all sugary innocence as she appears. Rosamund knows all about the deception of appearance.

“Hmm,” she pushes herself to her feet and smiles slightly. “I hate this room. Too many eyes judging. Though they are no saints,” she gives a pointed look to a couple of the portraits.

Lavinia blinks then surveys the room before asking, “Why sit here?”

“Habit,” she replies and sets down her glass, noticing that she has left a ring on the mahogany and she traces it with a blood-red fingernail. Oh how that  _will_  annoy Sarah.

“Do you have family?” she asks suddenly.

“My father died recently and my mother…” Lavinia leaves it open-ended, glancing at her shoes for a second then meets Rosamund’s eye. “No, I have no one.”

Rosamund holds her gaze then smiles once more. “Neither do I. Not anymore. Like you.”

Lavinia’s lips turn up a little and she eases her tense shoulders and leans slightly on her left leg. She trusts too easily, Rosamund thinks but maybe that’s the cynic in her.

“Shall we go for a drink?” she says. “Get out of this place and talk. I think we need to talk.”

Lavinia smiles more readily now. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me quite yet darling. When I say drink, I mean it,” she smirks and sees Lavinia’s eyes widen just a little at the prospect. She laughs and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder briefly. There’s something at the contact and she takes in a small breath. It’s her, it must be her.

“Come on, I know a nice little bar that’s perfect,” she speaks as she leaves the room with the eyes and Lavinia follows her dutifully, her small steps barely heard over Rosamund’s hard footfalls.


End file.
